


Beyond the Half-Realm

by RageSloth



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demons, Fantasy, Hannibal is a demon, Horror AND Romance, Inter-dimensional Monsters, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Non-Religious, Science Fiction, Sexual Content, The Afterlife and beyond, Very graphic killing/maiming, Will fights monsters, Will is a wraith, inter-dimensional beings, lots of death and killing, wraiths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10062407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RageSloth/pseuds/RageSloth
Summary: It was consume or be consumed. After his suicide Will's existence consists of searching in hunger for the energy of other souls and consuming them. This all changes when he comes face-to-face with Hannibal, a demon who gives him a second chance to find himself in the place he had once tried to leave, though he can never be mortal again. He and Hannibal work to slake their hunger as dangerous creatures try to enter the human realm. They must destroy god, demon, and spirit alike in order to keep their realm clean but there is a darker power hiding just beneath their watch.





	

The world was a dank, dark, rotten place. It didn't matter if you were in one dimension or the next. He was stuck in between, a half-dimension suspended in space, able to see but not be seen, able to take but not give. His view to the world where creatures lived and died, prevailed and fell to despair was through a thick haze. He was a phantom, a wraith, suspended in dust and shadows. 

Will knew not how long he had been there, in what seemed to be a sort of purgatory. He had no ability to understand what he had done, if he had done anything, why he was here... His understanding of it was that he had struggled, screamed and thrashed throughout his entire miserable existence to the point that his soul was dark, angry, and not willing to dissipate or move on. Instead, his soul ached, his belly burned with need... to consume. He was a being of electricity, of hunger, feeding off the static of lesser souls. It is a constant need and he is always searching through the shadows and glimpses of the world he once resided in, seeking out the acrid electric taste of a freshly expelled soul, or maybe the soft ozone smell of a soul getting ready to leave its fleshy host. It ended up here, in the same place he was, caught in-between. When it came, it either fought and became as he was, drifting away from him in fear and malice, or was taken to feed the emptiness in his stomach that plagued him. Sometimes he would fight the ones who fought back, if he was strong enough, and take them, consume them as he did the others. Their taste, the power it gave him, it was almost like feeling joy again. 

He knew not sleep, nor peace. He had only his own constant being to keep him company. That and the other wraiths that resided in the same realm. He had decided on that after much speculation, that he was a wraith. They were creatures of supposed myth in the other realm he used to reside, like ghosts, or demons, phantoms, or spirits. Will knew some of the myths from his life and had realized he was most likely a sort of wraith, if he had to put a name to it. 

He wondered if this was just another existence in a long line of existences he has had. Perhaps before he was a man he was some other creature, ethereal, a new bit of static and electricity, in another half dimension, waiting to fill a host body; a forming fetus as it brain grew to competency. Perhaps there was something after this meager half-life, though he knew not what. 

Will often thought of what brought him to this: why he was too stubborn, too angry, too full of hate to let himself succumb to the wraith that had tried to make a feast of him. It had looked to be a horrid phantom; a skeleton, caught in lightning. Between flashes it was a woman, eyes wide and looking manic, afraid, and empowered. It had fought him and he had fought back, could feel her arms on him, skeletal, her strength was something a human woman would never have, thrashing him and throwing him, shocking him with her own electric current and screaming loud wailing shrieks. Will had found his own bellow, had fought back, had attacked over and over again until she retreated. They met again once, in the fog and the mist. He had consumed her. He was far stronger now. some souls gave him very little energy, most did not fight. There were some that fought but lost, some that did not fight but gave him immense strength, an immense feeling of satisfaction where he was not hungry for a long length of time. 

When he was human, and he remembered it vividly, he had been almost as miserable, just as rage-filled, just as cold. His life was wrought with horror after horror. He found no relief. No solace. Just as he hadn't here. But at least in the other realm he could feel more than the cold fingers of the dead as he fought for their souls. It had started at his very birth, his mother dead shortly after. His father was a cruel man; abusive, angry, a drunkard and a heroin addict. He blamed Will for every misstep in his life, every disservice, and punished him for such. They were poor. Will was constantly hungry in his youth, but had fought, had survived long enough to go through school and leave the man behind him. Even when not punished by his father he was punished by his peers, an outsider. He had constantly sought out the warmth of another human being to find little comfort. He immersed himself in books and his studies, closing himself off from a world of people he didn't understand. He entered college on a scholarship. It seemed things had begun to move forward for him. His father had died with the needle in his arm, liquor on his breath. He had been given a dormitory to live in, and a roommate. 

Will had been terrified of having a roommate. He had very little social skills. He couldn't look people in the eye. He seemed to feel everything everyone around him felt, intensified. So he tried to ignore them whenever possible. He had hoped to do the same with his roommate. He had no such luck, or so he thought. Kyle had been the brightest light that had ever come into his life. He pulled Will out of the deep darkness that had pervaded his soul. At the very least he had pulled him out of the shadow of it until all that remained was a foot, just in case, keeping a hold of the darkness for when it might be needed. Kyle had been his best friend. He was gregarious, unafraid, and warm. So warm. Will had never felt this warmth. It felt like what he only imagined was love. If he could love. 

Will had never felt much inkling for sexuality, had not known what to do with it. Yes, there were the nights of touching himself, to relieve the tension... but had he felt the need to touch someone that way or be touched? Not until Kyle. He wanted Kyle in every way possible, wanted to be inside him, wanted Kyle inside himself. He realized this went far beyond what society deemed normal or acceptable. He had kept it hidden. The wanting, the need for more warmth, was beginning to drag him back into the darkness he kept one foot in. He had to at least try something, anything. When Will had made his feelings known, he was rejected instantaneously, angrily, obscenely. It was the most devastating of all the pain Will had ever suffered. 

Will was back in the darkness again. He continued his studies, a shell of a human being. He continued on to the FBI, a good hand in forensics and criminal profiling. He had grown stronger by the anger that consumed him. He wanted to eradicate people like his father, people that destroyed. 

Will laughed into the void, thinking of how stupid he was in life. Destruction was all that there is. Chaos was a constant, unending force, pulling all into its depths. 

He remembered the last straw, yet another slow friendship, another reach for the light others seemed so easily able to grasp. He was so starved for warmth that it seemed each time he grew close to another human being he wanted every last piece they had to give. He was selfish to want their affection past friendship. The woman was beautiful, curvy, and dark. Will had been enchanted by her beauty before she befriended him. Her name was Talia. It was a short friendship preceded by a very quick awkward dismissal of his affections. Will had nothing. Nothing to give, nothing left. His leaving had been violent. He sought out a criminal, one he had become enraptured with. The ugly scenes of death the murderer had made consistently imprinted on Will's brain when he was shown the crime scene photos, asked what he had thought. He knew where to find him. 

He had trudged into the filth of the city, into the darkest corners, finding the scum. The man was unwashed and malicious. Will made a show of acting like he was making a citizen's arrest before letting the murderer slit his throat, dismember his body, destroy his flesh and his host body. He remembered the distinct feeling of his life leaving him, blood surrounding him in a pool, warm... warmth... the thing he had always craved. 

He still craved warmth. But he also craved death. Will had been pursuing a man through the mist, watching him making his last steps in the other realm. It had been awhile now. He was hobbling around his home, his breathing haggard. The old man just wasn't dying FAST enough. Will made a noise like a growl, reaching for the man, screaming in rage. He NEEDED that soul! His eyes widened in shock when he quite literally grabbed a hold of the soul and then ripped it from the body. He stood there, holding the old man's soul, mere static, by the neck, just a wisp, before he sucked it into him. Afterwards he stood in shock, suspended in confusion. Had he always been able to do this and not known it? He didn't think so. There had been something so empowering about simply ripping the soul out of the host instead of waiting for it. 

Before long Will was seeking out the diseased, their smell acrid in his nose, taking them as he pleased. He was growing stronger with each kill, leaving the crumpled bodies in the other realm, amazed that for once he could affect something. 

After a period of time, though what was time in this place? Will began to smell more scents; the strange spiced scent of dark souls like himself. Was he to seek those out as well? To consume them? Will had no other choice but to test it. Boredom will do that to most creatures. He let the smell guide him to a tall man, slightly hidden in the shadows. He followed him, smelling him, watching him as he did things in the other realm; eating, driving, talking... When he grew bored he reached out, tentatively at first, and felt the bright snap of electricity in his hand. He gasped, elated, and before he had even gotten a hold of himself, yanked the soul free violently. It fought. The man fought him in screams and lightning. Will did the same, amazed by the power, the force. He had not realized he had this same power, hitting him with the lightning, his own powerful energy, tackling him, punching him, biting him, before pulling the soul into his mouth like a gasping breath. 

Will cried out. He was reeling. He hadn't felt something like this in so long, a new feeling; a pleasurable, powerful, tingling feeling that spread out through to his fingertips and toes instead of just the mere satisfaction of slaking his hunger. 

Will lay on a floor that didn't really exist in his realm, just something his mind had made up to allow him the solace of not floating around aimlessly. He was wondering. Wondering of all the possibilities. There was real power here. He was growing, his soul was expanding, demanding, taking. That was when he heard the voice. 

"You are quite pretty for a wraith... " The voice said, a deep, accented voice holding amusement. A figure appeared in front of him, standing just before his feet. It was a man, not a wraith. Will stared wide-eyed at it. He was a powerful, broad-shouldered man and he smelled spicy, like that of the other dark souls. His eyes held threats of violence and also clarity. He had color in this realm where everything was bleak and gray. His hair was neatly styled, sandy and graying. He had intensely sharp cheek bones and a stable jaw and he wore a fine though slightly garish suit. Will wondered if he should try to take this soul as well, but it seemed... solid. He pondered that as he sat up on his elbows, curious. This was the most interesting thing that had happened yet. 

The man regarded him, eyes scanning him with interest just as he did the same. 

"You have gained power fast. It can take a hundred or more years to come to this state you are in. Can you speak?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Will swallowed. He had only screamed and bellowed and raged in this realm. He had never bothered speaking. He opened his mouth and surprisingly, a voice, his voice, came out. 

"Yes... Who... what are you?" Will said, the words sounding foreign to him. The man looked amused once more and held out his hand to him, as if to help him up, smiling. Will blinked at him before reaching up, taking his hand. He was pulled to his feet and the man looked him over again. 

"A black stag... with raven's feathers..." He said softly with a smile, regarding him. Will blinked in confusion. "You. Your other form." Will had no idea what he was talking about. "Well, I am Hannibal. I would be considered a demon as far as human lore goes, to answer your question, though that is a vague description and does not quite cover what there is beyond that." The man said, running his hands over his suit, straightening it absently. There was something strangely calming and alluring to the way the man, Hannibal, spoke. "What is your name? Do you remember it?" He asked. Will blinked. He had never forgotten. Had others?

"W-Will..." He said, looking at the man in amazed curiosity. This was the most interaction he had had since his death. It was thrilling. He shivered. Hannibal smiled. 

"Will... for William?" He asked. "Protector... amusing." Will blinked curiously and nodded. 

"How did you... get here...?" Will asked softly. Hannibal let his face become neutral again. 

"You have been causing some rather interesting incidents in Baltimore. I had to take a look for myself. You are a rare creature." He said, studying him once more. "I would like to see you make a break from this place. I have not seen anyone do so in a long time. Please." He said, gesturing to him. Will looked confused, staring at the man... or 'demon' that is. 

"I don't know what you mean..." Will said. Was it true he could "Break free?" He was becoming both scared and amazed by the possibility. 

"Your other form is already becoming visible. It should take an exertion of energy to achieve full transformation; your becoming." Hannibal said. Will blinked at him again and shook his head in confusion once more. Hannibal thought for a moment and licked his lips. "An exertion of energy... if my memory serves me you would push your energy as one does to reduce another wraith. The electricity if you will, but instead it will be much more concentrated. You may need to pluck another dark soul for this." He said with amusement again. Will furrowed his eyebrows and looked around before deciding he would just try it and see what happens. What did he have to lose? 

Will closed his eyes, let the rage, hunger, and power run through him, his energy crackled with electricity, making loud snapping sounds around them that echoed into the void. Within moments large spikes of electricity shot out from him, he became disoriented, he felt the strange feeling as if he were imploding, closing in on himself and pulling particles with him, from all around him... sensation, sound, and smells infiltrated his reality and he cried out, falling to the ground, solid ground. Rocks and pebbles from the street dug into his knees. 

Will's eyes widened, panting, feeling real air moving through real lungs, not just a imagined picture of himself. He looked around him, looked down at his hands. His hands were real, he clenched them in his fists, looked down at the clothes he wore; the same ones he wore the night he had died: Khakis and a plaid shirt. Had he imagined those and let the surrounding particles form to his exact memorized specifications? He shook, elated, amazed, terrified... The demon, Hannibal, stood before him, looking over him with a smile. 

"Perfection... beautiful. Well done. Last time I saw someone do that they appeared somewhat... out of shape... and had to extinguish that particular shell. " He said. Will slowly looked up at him through the curls falling over his forehead. He had never dreamed of being made whole again... but something was different. The weight of the world was no longer the same to him. Much in the other reality he accepted the chaos, the destruction and pain. He felt powerful. He felt in control. He swallowed, blinking fast a few times. 

"So... I can just... do this as I please...?" He asked, eyes widening. Hannibal nodded. 

"If you destroy the shell you will go back to the half-realm until you decide to reform or you may decide to infiltrate an already occupied body however if you do so you will push out the soul and effectively displace it into the half-realm to become a wraith or consumed. You will need to destroy that body as well to leave it." Hannibal explained. 

"Why... why are you helping me... are you like me?" Will asked, slightly distracted by the live movement around him, the sensations he would be able to experience again. 

"I was once a wraith like yourself, yes. You are now a demon, the same as myself." Hannibal explained. "I am helping because you interest me. Many years roaming in and out of the realms have taught me to take interest in strange developments. You are a strange development and must be explored. 

"How did... didn't anyone see me when I just... did I just appear?" Will asked, wide-eyed, semi-frightened and fascinated. 

"The mortals see what they want to see. It is classic psychology. A recent theory for strange occurrences of which I find amusing is 'a glitch in the matrix.' The mortals believe they are in a computer and are seeing the lapses in the capability of the machine. Most mortals pay little attention to their surroundings and if they do see a 'glitch' as it were, they will simply think it a trick of the mind." the demon explained, looking amused. "I am finding explaining things to you as though you are my apprentice somewhat stimulating... I rarely pay attention to my own kind." Will furrowed his eyebrows and laughed under his breath a little. He realized he was having a fairly normal conversation with another creature and he was smiling. He quickly dropped the smile, looking away, building up his defenses. He swallowed hard and pushed up the glasses he found on the edge of his nose. When he pulled them all the way up the lenses blurred his vision and made his eyes hurt. He pulled them away, looking at them in confusion. Hannibal looked at Will in interest. "Our bodies are more perfect than what humans are generally allowed simply because we made them ourselves. Your vision should be quite clear, though I do like the glasses. You wore them even in the half-realm." Will nodded, folding and pocketing the glasses. 

"What... What year is it...?" He asked softly. Things did look slightly different in appearances; fashion, slightly different technology... He furrowed his eyebrows. 

"It is two-thousand seventeen." Hannibal informed him leisurely. Will blinked. Ten years. He had been gone for ten years. He wondered if he would end up seeing someone he used to know, aged beyond him. It concerned him, but then he realized he had been a shadow of a person even before becoming a wraith. He had had no friends. He had colleagues who had never bothered to even learn his name. He sighed, looking down at his sneakers. Though the sneakers had been scuffed before, last he remembered, he had restored them to new. He smiled a little at that. 

They were on a street he remembered, Harrison Street. It was not very lively at the moment, just a few shoppers here and there. It must have been mid-day. The sun was partially hidden behind clouds but the stark color around him was a welcome contrast to the gray of the half-realm. 

"What... what do I do now...? I'm sure my apartment has been sold... I have no job... What do demons even do? In the other realm I just looked for souls to eat..." Will said, lost. Hannibal smiled. 

"You will come with me to my home for now. Then we will go out to feast, as is our duty and our nature." He said. Will blinked, yet again more confused but had no choice but to follow him, Hannibal leading him to an expensive Bentley parked on the side of the street before the demon drove them to his residence. 

Everything, every touch, every smell, every sight was a new experience. He sighed as he felt the cool seat of leather he sat on, smooth under his fingertips. He stared in wonder as Hannibal drove, scenery passing them quickly. 

Hannibal's house was a large renovated brownstone. He had explained he was a psychologist. Will thought it incredibly bizarre that one would simply go back to regular human tasks after having died and become a wraith. They had feasted on souls for years. It wasn't something you could act like it didn't happen. 

"So you just... do all the normal... stuff? We're just back again? Forever?" Will asked as they entered his home. It was immaculate and dark. It screamed of wealth, something Will knew little of. 

"Well, no. We still must feed our energies or we may very well find ourselves consumed by another of our kind or a wraith if we are so weakened." Hannibal explained. 

"We still eat souls?" Will asked as he looked around the living room they had entered. There were expensive Victorian-style wing-backed chairs and couches, beautifully done woodwork on a mantle over a black marble fireplace, and some surely expensive side-tables, coffee table, artifacts, and pictures on the walls. Hannibal sat gracefully in one of the wing-backed chairs before thinking. 

"Would you like coffee?" He asked, suddenly standing again. Will nodded and followed Hannibal to the kitchen where he had a fascinating coffee maker that looked like some sort of apothecary device. 

"We do still eat souls but the method is different. We are no longer in the half-realm so the extraction is done in another manner." Hannibal answered his question from before. 

"What other manner?" Will asked. Hannibal seemed completely at-ease as he worked on making their coffee even as he explained something completely ludicrous. 

"We must kill and consume the heart and meat (if one prefers) of another in order to extract the soul." He said. Will stared at him. It was dirty enough consuming a person's actual soul. The idea of the gore involved made it sound all-too-personal. As if someone could get any more personal than a soul.

"We just... go out, and kill someone and... eat them?" Will asked in disbelief. Hannibal smiled somewhat menacingly. 

"My dear Will, there is nothing worse than destroying a soul. However if we had not consumed those souls they would only be consumed by another. It is consume or be consumed. What makes a difference if one is destroying the body as well?" He asked. Will shook his head, unsure in his answer. 

They stood for a moment in silence, listening to the sound of the coffee machine working. When it was done Hannibal poured cups for each of them and showed him back to the living room. They both sat in wing-backed chairs. 

"Do you..." Will was afraid to ask the rest of his question. It seemed foolish. "Do you know if that is all there is?" He finally said despite his concerns. "Does everyone just end up in the half-realm to be consumed?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow. 

"Some move to another host body, a fetus, generally." Hannibal said. "Other than that I do not know." Will swallowed. 

"So... reincarnation?" He asked. This was all so profound, this new knowledge, this new part of his existence. 

"Essentially." Hannibal said, taking a sip of his coffee. Will did the same, feeling sheepish. "Did you kill yourself?" Hannibal suddenly asked. Will choked on his coffee, coughing hard. It took a few moments to get over, trying to clear his throat. Hannibal looked amused. 

"Uh... not exactly." Will said, looking down at his cup. "I... I used to be a criminal investigator. I sought out a killer within the area and let him... let him slit my throat." Will said, swallowing. Saying it out loud seemed strange. He had killed himself. Just with assistance. Hannibal was looking at him curiously. 

"What caused your desire to die?" Hannibal asked, sipping his coffee some more. He looked the epitome of grace and masculinity sitting straight in the chair, broad shoulders pressed straight back, long legs crossed. Will was staring. He only noticed when the silence went on for too long. Decades of being ridiculed for being strange reminded him to speak. 

"Everything... everything had always been out of my control... no matter what I can't... I couldn't... make things better. I worked hard and it did nothing to provide for me... I've never been good with people... I had no one to depend on... I always wanted... a family, a friend, something... and I never found it." Will said, his eyes watering. He hadn't cried in so long. His emotions seemed to have dulled in the half-realm. Now they felt raw. He blinked back the tears, looking away. 

"Your need for control and lack-there-of may be some of what gave you enough power to not be consumed when you died. Interesting, at the very least. However you did allow another to kill you, giving the control to another... Possibly a sort of last effort to appease another human being. I often ponder what makes wraiths different from the others who are simply consumed. It's interesting to hear your perspective." The demon said in speculation. Will sipped at his coffee some more, feeling the warm liquid run down his throat. It was amazing to taste the bitterness of coffee once again. He let that distract him as he tried to move past his feelings of self-hatred, anger, and suffering. 

"How..." Will's voice cracked and he looked into his lap. "How am I supposed to make this any better?" He asked. 

Hannibal sat for a moment, unspeaking. Will looked up at him, blinking through tears. What stood before him was no longer the tall broad-shouldered European but a creature, black as the deepest depths of darkness. It was taller than most men could ever hope to be and held a near-human shape, though many bones could be seen through the black skin of the beast. It's face was a mask of neutrality, and atop its head were massive antlers. Will's eyes widened, staring at it. 

"I will help you." Hannibal said.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a more serious fic, or is intended to be so than my others so far. It's intended to be dark and disturbing, punctuated by a sick romance... like the show. I'm hoping my world-building and my explanations of how things work is understandable. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Comment if you like. It's much appreciated and helps me keep going.


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